by Imogene Nix
Exhaustion started to cloud his judgement and common sense.
Dria disappeared around the corner, and as Marcus started to round it, a large goon slid in front of him.
“Only guests through there. You can wait—”
He thrust his hand into the pocket of his pants, pulled out a security pass, and waved it in front of the beefy man blocking his path. “I can go wherever the hell I need to. I’m the Turana’s personal guard. So move.”
The man’s eyes narrowed for an instant before he moved to the side and shook his head. “Sorry, man. With so many people in here tonight, it’s hard to work out who should be back here and who shouldn’t.”
The news upset Marcus. “Then you’d better take me to her straight away.” He exuded menace and the goon backed away, paling visibly
“Sure. They’re taking her into the VIP dressing room. It’s this way.”
The man directed him to a discreetly hidden entrance at the end of a hallway, and as Marcus stepped within, he noted that Dria was obviously at the end of her limits too. Her eyes were closed and she rested against the back of a chair. Lines bracketed her mouth and her shoulders slumped.
“You’d better clear a chair, Vane,” she said.
He gazed around the room. Chairs were scattered haphazardly, each piled high with clothing.
“The cosmetician said she’d be back in ten, and from what I understand, this could take a while.” The princess slipped two slices of cucumber over her eyes. “She told me this would help with any puffiness. Whoever heard of something so stupid anyway? I’d rather eat them than waste cucumber.” She mumbled the words and Marcus laughed.
“Yeah, I’ve never been able to understand that kind of thinking myself.” A large chair sat in the corner, and he moved the mounded clothing out of his way. “I’ll just sit over here.”
The chair was a conformable recliner, which molded around him, and without any conscious thought he relaxed the tight muscles of his body. Marcus closed his eyes, and a wave of exhaustion swamped him.
“Vane? Are you there?” The whisper rippled through him, electrifying cells within his body. He glanced up, realizing he’d fallen asleep in the chair. Her seat sat empty and a heavy stone took up position in his belly.
“Turana?”
“I’m here. And my name is Dria. Call me Dria, Marcus. I can call you that, can’t I?” The husky tones of her voice increased the ache in his groin while loosening the fear that had suffused him.
“Yeah. You can call me...anything you want.” He gulped as she gave a sexy laugh and her breasts, naked like the rest of her body, quivered.
“I like that. I like...you. Do you…” She licked her lips in an attitude of insecurity. “Do you like me?”
His eyes widened as she loomed over him.
He glanced at the door. It was locked, and the lights in the room were turned down low.
“I do. I more than like you.” He pushed out of the seat and rose, meeting her halfway as their lips collided.
Hers were soft. Tender.
His hands rose, cupping her shoulders, and his thumbs started massaging her. Her skin was silken and firm. Just as he’d expected. The thought exploded in his mind as their bodies moved closer together and his lips worshipped hers.
She tasted of berries. Ripe summer fruits, all warm and sweet.
A tiny mewl rose while Dria gyrated against him. The pressure in his groin responded to the play of her fingers as she tugged at his belt.
He shrugged away. “Not yet. I’m not ready. You’re not ready.”
The invitation he saw in her eyes belied his words though.
“I’m more than ready, Marcus. Feel me. Feel how hungry I am for you.” Her hand pulled at his, dragged it down the curves of her belly and to the silken forest of hair that hid her core. “Feel me. Feel how ready I am for you.”
Without conscious thought, he slid a finger between the soft, damp cleft of her sex. A broken cry of excitement tore from her lips. The sound stole the breath from his body.
He leaned in and kissed her, hard. Lips to lips, and tongue to tongue they tangled, bodies writhing.
She touched his shoulder, tugged and shook...
“Dammit, Vane! Wake up!” The anxiety in her voice shook him.
“Wha... What?” He glanced around, bleary-eyed.
“You fell asleep.” The anxious thread in her voice was replaced with anger. “You must have been having an interesting dream, given you kept muttering ‘I want you.’”
“Shit!” He realized now he’d been dreaming about her. A highly erotic fantasy of him and her—them! “I didn’t mean.... I didn’t really sleep well last night and with today, I guess it took more out of me than I thought.” His hand automatically reached for his throbbing thigh and he massaged it.
“I... Are you all right? What’s wrong with your leg?” Her face screwed up. “I mean, apart from the scars.”
He pursed his lips. “I was caught in an explosion nearly twelve months ago. It hurts when I’m not careful.” He kept his tone neutral, hoping she’d stop asking.
“Oh. Sorry, I shouldn’t have... Look Vane, I just... I couldn’t seem to wake you and I was worried.”
He peered closer, noting the white of her lips and the way she rubbed at her stomach. “Not feeling well?”
“I haven’t felt very well all day. To be honest, I’m glad this is our last official visit. I’m tired, and I’d rather check on my people than be here right now.”
“I can arrange that for after, if you wish?” He desperately wanted to relieve the pressure she was clearly feeling.
“I think only Verala is left at the healer’s clinic. But I’d like to check on her. She’s very young and a long way from home.” Her concern, even while dealing with her own discomfort, was touching.
“I’ll arrange that then.”
She smiled, and it warmed his heart. “Can I...”
She glanced away, and he wondered what it was she felt so unsure of asking.
When she turned back, a crest of red colored her cheeks. “Could I call you Marcus? Since we’re going to be stuck together for however long, it would make it a little easier.” She bit her lip, making her look young and vulnerable.
“I’d like that, Turana.”
Her frown marred the sense of wellbeing he experienced. “You really should call me Dria. Most of my friends do.”
“Are we friends, Dria? Is that possible?”
She blushed a deep crimson, and he knew exactly why. They were already more than friends on a physical level.
“I’d like to think we’re well on the way.”
“Then, your calling me Marcus suits me.”
At that instant the door opened and the makeup artist walked in. “Did I interrupt something?”
The artless guile on the woman’s face was all an act, Marcus knew, but he played along. Whether she’d been listening at the door, or had read the signals from their bodies didn’t matter. They both had a part to play, and play it they would.
“Not at all. I think the Turana is ready for you though.”
He couldn’t be totally sure, but he thought Dria muttered something along the lines of, “I seriously doubt it.”
He chuckled and retreated to the comfort of his chair.
Chapter 3
Dria threw the newspaper to the tabletop with an inelegant snort. “They should outlaw printing this kind of rubbish. ‘Princess embroiled in relationship with guard.’ My parents would be appalled if they could see this.”
They would probably lecture her for days, but she hadn’t done anything to bring it about. She wracked her brains trying to work out who would have circulated such a story. The only person she could think of was the makeup artist. And even then, they’d not done anything untoward. At least, not physically.
Marcus dropped to the seat opposite her and grabbed the paper. “It could work to our benefit though.”
Dria squinted. “How so?”
“
Well, firstly it promotes the idea that you are here totally for pleasure and strengthens the argument that you are merely a titular member of the militia.”
“But my parents! They’ll think I’m shirking my responsibilities, and my commander—” She bit off her complaints at his raised eyebrow. “What?”
His warm smile scattered her wits. “We know what you’ve achieved so far. Verala will return home in several days, and you’ve ascertained that the chemicals have to be delivered in quantities. This will help us track down those involved. You’ve already begun the process of investigating buyers. You’re ensuring that no one thinks you are more than your mission requires, so I’d say, what you’ve achieved is quite successful.” He shifted into a reclining position and watched her.
He was right, of course. She knew that on an instinctive level, but it didn’t make Dria feel any better. “I’m hopeful the information regarding buyers will arrive later today.”
“Good. Now eat. If you don’t, you’ll faint on me and they’ll say you’re pregnant with a Ba’Tuan hybrid.”
Her heart almost stopped beating at that thought. That they’d think... “I, um... Of course I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong thought... That you and I are, you know, involved.” God, I sound like some stilted virgin when I speak like that.
He smiled, and not for the first time she almost swallowed her tongue. “We could be, you know. Involved.” The grin widened as he watched her reaction.
“I... Uh...”
The intensity of his gaze deepened. “I dreamed about you while you were waiting for the makeup artist. It was about you and me. Together. Intimately.” Red crested his cheeks, telling her he was taking a chance on sharing his dream.
“I... I’m interested. But I have a job...” Her denial sounded weak.
Hunger and lust mingled in his eyes, and they turned smoky. His hand reached out and touched hers where it rested on the table. His touch scorched her.
Without warning, he shoved away from the table, stood up, then shook his head. “What am I thinking? It’s stupid, against the rules, and I should know better.” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.
The thought of them together entranced her. Involved with Marcus Vane. He’d be a strong lover. She’d seen glimpses of the man he’d attempted to hide since her arrival. Despite this, the fascination wasn’t enough to allow her to chance it. She’d been prepared once and he’d turned away. What if... Doubts assailed her.
When he turned back, hunger etched his face. “Last night, I tossed and turned. The only thing that made any sense was that I be open with you. Tell you that I hunger for you.”
Unable to control her confusion, she spoke. “Why? Why do you fight it, Marcus? What happened in your past that makes you so shy of committing to a woman? Why change your perspective for me?”
He backed away. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. After... After Christina, I swore no other woman would make me feel...” He shook his head, clearly unable to share the truth of whatever stopped him making a connection.
The slow thud of her heart took on a more rapid beat. If he would tell her everything, she’d listen, even if it tore her heart in two.
Perhaps if he came to terms with his pain, he’d take a chance on a relationship with her. “Tell me about Christina.”
She reached in his direction, but he jerked away, avoiding her touch.
“No. It’s...” He sighed heavily and sat down opposite her. “I can’t. What’s done is done.” With those words, he closed down the conversation.
* * * *
Heat wavered, the shimmer in the distance betrayed the temperatures. As he watched, the Turana—Dria, as she’d reminded him—moved through the massed crowds that gathered. Bouquets were thrust at her. Lines of people stretched before them, and they called out her name.
Today she would meet with council representatives of the hybrid community. They wished to raise issues that they’d been unable to communicate to the Earth government. Things such as their status in law had ground to a halt several years ago. With the rising number of hybrids, they needed someone to advocate for them.
Dria, as a visiting Ba’Tuan dignitary, offered to meet with them. He was aware that she felt strongly that she needed to find out their issues. She’d told him several times that she wanted to meet with the human government with all the facts.
Marcus watched the way she interacted with those gathered. She had a knack of finding the right attitude, whether it was instinctive or training, he couldn’t say. Just that she always seemed to leave people smiling.
Like me.
Was that why he’d brought up Christina? He hadn’t planned to. It could be because Dria came across as caring and involved. It seemed strange to him that she was a trained warrior, yet retained a “softness” that allowed her to interact freely with both old and young.
She also took her responsibility as the crown princess of her people seriously. Each person she met was the focus of her attention for the time she was with them.
“Sir, we’ve received intelligence that someone could be embedded in the crowd. I suggest we retreat and regroup.” The voice on the line was scratchy, but instantly Marcus was alert and moving toward Dria.
“What information do you have? I need details.” His hand covered the earpiece as he strained to hear. Urgent feelings rose in his chest, smothering him.
“Nothing more specific, sir.”
Marcus glanced in Dria’s direction, where she nodded at something the woman she was talking to had said. He moved swiftly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Just a moment, Commander.” A quick grin over her shoulder softened her words, then her full attention returned to the woman before her.
A frisson of frustration rose. “Sorry, Princess. This can’t wait.”
She turned and her eyes narrowed. “There’s a problem?”
“Potentially. We need to get out of here.” He tugged, hoping to propel her toward the cars, but she pushed away.
“No.”
“Turana, there’s a clear threat to you. If you won’t use the car then employ your transporter.”
“I don’t use them.”
* * * *
“What? What do you mean?” Marcus asked. His lips thinned, and anger shot through her.
“Because in a battle situation, they can be tracked. Any tactical advantage is neutralized. I don’t carry one, because it makes me a target.”
The expression on his face conveyed both frustration and confusion. “For heaven’s sake. You have to get out of here.” He pushed at her, trying to shove her to the door.
“No. I have a commitment. Let me finish here, then—” She started to turn back, but he stilled her.
“Sorry. No can do. We need to move now.”
She understood his situation, but this was too important. Not just to her but also the Ba’Tuan hybrids. “I can’t. These are important discussions. I won’t leave.”
Even as he prepared to speak, Dria accepted the tiny card the woman she’d been talking to proffered, and stashed it in the bag she carried over her arm. Dria shaded her eyes against the brilliant shine of the sun then strolled toward the door. She teamed her quick wave with a smile, as if nothing were wrong.
The only reaction she allowed was the bracing of her shoulders as she moved to the middle of the crowd. Her feet tapped as she made her way up the steps, and at the doorway, she stilled, turned, and gave a final wave before she stepped inside the building.
“Turana, you’re in danger. And you’re potentially putting everyone here in danger,” Marcus whispered.
Her stomach wobbled at that information. But she’d promised them that she would address their issues, and until she had something concrete to base the decision to cancel on, she couldn’t in all good conscience clear the area. “No. I promised my parents and Joruzan I would follow through with this. The needs of the hybrids are too important.”
“But the information—”<
br />
Her gaze speared him. “You have specific information? A credible threat?”
He shook his head.
If she were going to even consider leaving, she needed more than a whisper.
“Can you honestly tell me they’re more important than you?” He spoke harshly, but his steady gaze remained on her face. “Come on, Dria. You know as well as I do, you need to get out of here, and them too.”
She knew he wanted to shock her into making a decision. Should she evacuate? Without more details, she couldn’t.
“Dammit, if someone tries to make a move, you’re a sitting duck.”
“I know. But I gave a commitment, Marcus. I have to follow this through. I promise not to take any chances, but this is part of why I’m here.” Dria stepped back, but reached out to grasp his hand loosely. “As soon as I can, I’ll leave. I promise, but unless you have more...”
* * * *
Time passed slowly as she glanced around from her position at the table. Marcus wasn’t a happy man, but nothing she did would make him happy right now. Dria focused her attention on the man in front of her, listening to the issues he raised.
“Princess, we’ve made appeals, but the government doesn’t seem to understand. While we carry citizenship of the countries of our birth, our hybrid status means we can’t be registered as citizens of Earth. Ergo, we can’t access certain employment, judicial, and political services. We’ve lived with these issues, but our children... I don’t wish to see my daughter restricted as I have been.” He gestured to the child who sat quietly beside him. Dria judged her to be about twelve or thirteen. More than old enough on her planet to start learning and participating in formal meetings.
“I understand that, Davien, but if I’m to present this information to the Earth government, I need details of what you’ve done. Who you’ve addressed. What you’re prepared to give up. I would also imagine they will require you to choose either Earth citizenship or Ba’Tuan.”